She rubbed back, and that was better than good.
“Alyce,” he gasped against her mouth.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, because that sounded very much like the start of a protest.
And with his mouth open on that gasp, the wet heat of his tongue and lips was hers.
He groaned, and, like the pictures in his book of each devil matched to its sin, his hand moved to echo hers. With his fingers at the back of her head, he tilted her, just so, and she said, “Oh,” to show him she understood and because she could not stop herself.
His tongue played over her lips and the front line of her teeth before dipping deeper. It roused the fever in her until she thought she would die with wanting what he was holding back.
She wrapped her heels behind his thighs and drew him closer. No holding back. She would not forget this.
He stumbled into her, one hand braced behind her to steady himself, the other steadied against her—against her naked breast.
He recoiled, hand flinching back as if he’d been burned. And perhaps he had been, given that she felt so hot. “Alyce.”
She cursed the weak demon that apparently couldn’t tempt him. “Are you afraid of my dread demon?”
“Afraid for you, more like.” He grabbed at the crumpled folds of fabric in her lap and tugged the dress upward to cover her.
She refused to hold it in place. He’d been the one to cut it in back, after all. “That makes no sense.”
“It would if you knew what you were doing to me.”
“You can’t hurt me. Nothing leaves a mark. Other than the demon,” she added reluctantly. “And that’s almost nothing; you said it yourself.”
“There are different kinds of hurt. And I didn’t say it was nothing.” Still holding her dress in place with one hand, he twisted himself loose from her knees and slipped around behind her. He grabbed a tool from the cart and pinched it over the split edges of fabric. With four angry clips, he closed the tear.
“Those staples will hold until we find you something else to wear. Something without blood. Something with underthings.”
She narrowed her eyes at his vehemence. “You thought I was in trouble upstairs, and you came to save me even though you could have been hurt.”
“You aren’t in trouble. You are trouble.” He turned away from her, raking his fingers through his hair in distress.
When she had done it, she’d left the thick russet locks in disarray. But his hands smoothed away the evidence of her touch.
Very little in the world showed evidence of her passage. That thought had never bothered her before—or even occurred to her before. She had drifted through the streets in shadows, as unknown and unknowing as the tenebrae.
Now she wanted someone—needed him—to acknowledge her existence.
So she slipped off the table, slipped out of her dress—the staples would not hold against her—and slipped up behind him in one stealthy flow.
He must have sensed he was being stalked, because he whirled around to face her. But it was too late, and he could catch her only as she moved right into him.
One arm went around his waist to keep him from escaping. One hand went behind his head to bring his kiss down to her. One hand … Oh, that was his hand anchoring beneath her bottom to drag her up against his chest.
“Damn it, Alyce.” For once, the curse didn’t hurt. His growl sent shivers through her as no tenebrae scream ever had.
With Sidney’s arms tight around her, for once damnation and the devil seemed very far away.
Whatever slow instruction he might have given her before in the mating of tongues, he apparently expected her to have mastered by now. He bent her back, his mouth fierce and hot.
He didn’t fear her. He wasn’t running away.
She strained to bring herself closer to him, for even the scant space for their gasping breath was a separation she wouldn’t allow. Not even room for thought, much less words.
His big hands framed the width of her ribs, his thumbs pushing up her breasts as he kissed the edge of her jaw, the column of her throat, the point of her collarbone.
The fever raced ahead of his mouth, centering deep in her core, as if lighting the way for his exploration.
She pushed down on his shoulders to urge him lower in case he couldn’t follow the signs.
One moment they were chasing desire … and the next, cold distance separated them.
Sidney let out a surprised shout as he flew through the air. His arms windmilled, and his flailing legs knocked over the table with a ringing crash. He slammed into the wall. His shirt had slipped awry, and his wounded shoulder left a smear of blood.
Alyce whirled to face the attack.
CHAPTER 10
Sid’s skull rang, and the flush of conflicting biochemicals in his bloodstream—lust, shock, pain—left him breathless.
Had he frightened her? Or her demon?
He patted around him until he found his spectacles. With one hinge bent, they sat seriously askew when he propped them on the end of his nose. He barely had time to focus before a black bulk filled his field of vision. Strong fingers wrapped around his throat and helped him to his feet, then lifted him another meter higher than that.
Gagging, he wrapped his hands around the thick wrist and found himself staring into Liam’s ferocious purple glare.
“Bookkeeper, your studies go too far.”
Despite the murderous intent in the league leader’s eyes, Sid directed his attention beyond the talya male. “Alyce, no.”
Liam glanced over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to Sid with one lifted eyebrow. “I take it the tonsil exam was mutual.”
“Let him go.” Alyce poised herself on the balls of her bare feet. It was the rest of her bare self that sent an agonized rush through Sid—that, and the sheen of the ridiculously tiny scalpel in her fist.
The little blade had served well enough to open her torn dress, and she looked fully ready to fillet Liam the same way.
Liam lowered Sid until his toes brushed the floor but did not release him. “Alyce, are you unhurt? Nim said the game upstairs got … heated. I’m not sure she realized how heated.”
Sid made another gagging noise.
Liam set him down flat-footed and stepped aside. “My mistake.”
Alyce did not lower the scalpel. “Go away.”
Sid bent to brace himself with one hand on his knee and rubbed the back of his head where he’d connected with the wall. “Alyce, please put the knife down. It was a mistake.”
Her eyes had flickered violet as she faced Liam. Now she glanced at him, and the icy stillness of the pale blue told him his words had struck her. “A mistake?”
“I didn’t mean …” He hadn’t meant the kiss, but now that he thought about it …
His hesitation made her recoil. Her narrow bared shoulders folded inward to hide the reven around her neck.
God, she was so small. The lithe tension of her muscles as she’d strained against him moments ago had made him forget that. She had made him forget pretty much everything, obviously. But under the unforgiving fluorescent lights, without even the dubious protection of her torn housedress and with Liam’s dark bulk for contrast, she looked unbearably breakable. No wonder the demon was so zealous in its protection of her.
Dread was worse than fear. Dread encompassed all that hadn’t happened but might.
For the first time, Sid felt true affinity for a demon. The teshuva was trying harder than he was to keep Alyce in one piece. And he was ashamed he was not living up to the moral expectations of an entity that had once stormed the gates of heaven.